


the family we choose

by natlar



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: 1) where have you been, 2) go read it it's amazing i promise, Gen, Hakuddles, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Parental Hakoda (Avatar), Parental soulmarks, Soulmarks, Zuko is an Awkward Turtleduck, hakoda finds out about zuko's scar, i mean... it's zuko, if you haven't read it yet, inspired by Salvage from MuffinLance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25890484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/natlar/pseuds/natlar
Summary: An unexpected visit from the Avatar leads to Hakoda realizing that Zuko is, in fact, his soul-son.
Relationships: Hakoda & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 89
Kudos: 3100





	the family we choose

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MuffinLance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuffinLance/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Salvage](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21116591) by [MuffinLance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MuffinLance/pseuds/MuffinLance). 



> this is it. this is the fic that finally made me write something after six years. i blame muffinlance and muffinlance alone.
> 
> inspired by [this post](https://muffinlance.tumblr.com/post/622393585518641152/okay-okay-okay-so-anyone-up-for-parental).
> 
> this work is dedicated to Kustaa's Favorite Apprentice, gone but never forgotten, and to AzuLance, our Benevolent Overlord, Long May He Reign.
> 
> ps this fic is set after ch 11 of salvage! so ch 12 (holy SHIT YALL!!!) doesn’t apply here

In retrospect, Hakoda _really_ should have seen this whole thing coming.

It had been a little over two months since the former Fire Prince had officially joined the crew as Kustaa’s apprentice, and nearly four since they’d fished him out of the sea in the first place. Zuko was becoming more comfortable among the Water Tribesmen with each rising sun; Hakoda had even heard him giggling while he’d been helping Panuk and Toklo with laundry the other day. He was finally accepting that they weren’t going to abandon him at a random port, but that didn’t necessarily mean he had truly opened up to them yet.

The crew still had so many questions about their newest recruit. Why didn’t he want to contact his uncle, who he so clearly missed? Why did Ozai, the boy’s own father, want him dead so badly? How did the former Crown Prince end up with a scar the size of a large hand perfectly centered on the left side of his face?

Hakoda wasn’t stupid. Firebenders didn’t burn easily, and everyone on the _Akhlut_ knew it. So why, _why_ did their youngest member have such a terrible mark right over his eye, who in their right mind would inflict that kind of pain on a boy Zuko’s age? And if Kustaa was right-- and he usually was-- that burn was several years old already. Zuko was only sixteen, had _barely_ been sixteen when the crew had found him, and Kustaa had told Hakoda during one of their many late-night talks about how it had been treated by the doctors on his old ship.

Two and a half years, he’d been banished before his father had proclaimed him dead. Two and a half years, with a scar just as old caused by someone who was powerful and heartless enough to seriously burn a young, royal firebender--

Hakoda wasn’t a betting man, but he was smart enough to connect the dots when they were all laid out in front of him, no matter how much he didn’t want to consider what conclusion they brought him to.

So, really, Hakoda should have seen this coming, because the dots were perfectly lined up and waiting for him. But somehow, he didn’t, even though the rest of the crew did, and they just didn’t see any reason to enlighten him on their discovery.

Traitors, the lot of them.

* * *

One year before the birth of his first child, a strange blue mask had appeared on Hakoda’s left shoulder.

It had been a confusing day for the Southern Water Tribe, because no one in the village had any idea what they represented. The mask was intricate and detailed, a disguise unlike anything they had ever seen. This was troubling, mostly because the Southern Water Tribe had been isolated from the majority of the world, including their sister tribe, for decades. Combined with the fact that no children had been born in the South Pole upon the mark’s appearance, Hakoda and his tribesmen had realized that, apparently, he had a pseudo-child in another nation.

Which made absolutely no sense.

Because the Air Nomads were gone, the Fire Nation was the enemy, the Northern Water Tribe had abandoned them, and Hakoda had never even _been_ to the Earth Kingdoms.

A few weeks after its appearance, the excitement-nervousness surrounding the mysterious mask faded. It was easily hidden under his shirt, so he didn’t see it or think about it often. There were more important things for Hakoda to consider, and more valuable ways for him to spend his time than wondering about a random soulmark. It was just a fault in the system, he said, and it was unlikely that anything would ever come of it.

Sixteen years later, the men of the Southern Water Tribe boarded the _Akhlut_ to fight in the war against the Fire Nation.

The thought of finding his unknown child never even crossed Hakoda’s mind.

* * *

Zuko had three soulmarks, once upon a time. He tried not to think too much about them, about how they signaled that he was weak and dependent and wouldn’t be able to fend for himself if he were left alone. Father and Azula had no such brands, no useless marks tying them anyone in the world.

He’d had two dragons on his left wrist, once, intertwined together in the image of a heart for his mother. Uncle had been on his right ankle as a simple cup of tea, warm and calming to the touch. And on his face, clear and visible for anyone mock, had been the war paint of a foreign nation.

Ozai had been furious, and Zuko had no doubt he would have burned his marks off at birth if Mother had not shielded him with her own body, the gentle turtleduck now adorning her right forearm cleverly hidden behind a flowing sleeve.

For the first several years of his life, Zuko had been confined to a specific wing of the palace, with only a handful of trusted servants and tutors allowed to see him face-to-face. He’d been isolated and alone, forbidden from appearing in the public eye with a treasonous Water Tribe mark on his face.

When he was old enough, his mother taught him to cover his marks with a special paint so that he would be able to come and go as he pleased. He should have been excited-- he’d wanted to explore the rest of the palace for _years_ now-- but upon seeing his markless reflection in the mirror, an inexplicable feeling of dread pooled in his stomach.

It was far from a normal life for a young boy, but Prince Zuko was hardly a normal child, and even though it wasn’t perfect, he was… Content. He loved to sit out in the courtyard and feed the turtleducks with his mother, loved to learn secret firebending techniques with his eccentric uncle, loved to spar and practice his swordsmanship with his cousin, Lu Ten. He was happy, for a time, even if he had to hide part of himself every time he stepped outside his room.

Things changed when Uncle and Lu Ten left for Ba Sing Se. He’d hugged them fiercely before they’d left, and they’d promised to see him again as soon as the city fell.

Nearly two years later, Uncle abandoned the siege. Alone.

Grief was unlike anything Zuko had ever felt before. Lu Ten had been like a brother to him, the only person he’d been able to call _friend_ in his eleven years of life. He knew he couldn’t cry in public; it would shame his father, and it would streak the make-up to reveal the gray mark hiding underneath. In his room, though, he let himself grieve, wrapped carefully in Mother’s loving arms.

When night fell, he drifted off into a deep sleep. He was awoken by the feeling of his wrist burning.

“Dad’s going to kill you,” Azula sang, as if she hadn’t just mutilated one of her brother’s soulmarks. “Really, he is.”

Zuko couldn’t hear her over the sound of his own screams.

* * *

Bato had told him, in great detail, about the travels his children had undertaken alongside the Avatar. He’d wasted no effort in describing the young airbender, as well as his two animal companions, both relics of a culture once thought to have been lost forever.

No story in the world could have prepared Hakoda for the sheer _size_ of the flying bison that was currently hurtling through the air towards his ship.

The men who were on deck made a bit of a commotion, prompting many others to come out from below to see what was going on. Bato emerged from the crew cabin looking serious, ready for whatever the situation may be. Upon seeing the beast in the air, though, his expression quickly morphed into a shit-eating grin.

Hakoda held out his hand, signaling for the crew to stay behind him as he moved toward the rail of the _Akhlut,_ trying to get a better look. The bison was approaching rapidly, and was soon flying parallel to the boat, just a few feet from where Hakoda himself was standing. Sitting on the beast’s head was a young boy, his bald head adorned with a blue arrow that hadn’t been seen in one hundred years. On its back was a large saddle, filled with supplies and three more children, including--

_”Dad!”_

* * *

Zuko was dying.

He was delirious with fever, and Iroh didn’t know what to do.

His brother had burned his own son’s face, deliberately searing yet another soulmark off of a thirteen-year-old boy. He hadn’t even stayed to watch as the child cried out in pain, crumpling to the ground as his father walked away. Hadn’t bothered to check on him before issuing his banishment, ordering him to leave the country in a week’s time, never intending for the boy to actually return.

The crew Iroh had gathered was working day and night to tend to their banished prince, but his fever would not break. The face paint that had once protected Zuko might now be his undoing; Ozai had melted it straight into his skin, and the infection it had created was proving difficult to counteract.

The retired general sat at his nephew’s sickbed, dabbing his forehead with a cold cloth and unconsciously clenching his left fist, as if trying to protect the small flame that was nestled at the base of his thumb.

Iroh had already lost one son to his nation’s pointless war. He refused to lose another to Ozai’s cruelty.

* * *

The short cry was the only warning Hakoda got before his kids vaulted off the saddle and into his arms. They all crashed to the deck, and Hakoda lost his breath for a moment, but he barely noticed. His kids were here, in his arms, and they were _safe_ and _alive_ and--

He relinquished them briefly, doing his best to muster a glare fit for a scolding parent. _”Two volcanoes?”_ he demanded.

Sokka and Katara at least had the decency to smile sheepishly before Hakoda broke, grabbing them both and pulling them close again.

They held each other for several moments, relishing in each others’ touch and presence and melting further into the embrace. Katara was openly crying, while Sokka tried to hide his tears by pressing his face further into his father’s arm. Behind them, Hakoda registered the sound of his crew making way for the Avatar’s bison to land on the center of the _Akhlut’s_ deck.

Their reunion was cut short when Sokka reluctantly pulled away from his father. “Dad, come here,” he said, looking over Hakoda’s shoulder at his companions. “We have some people we want you to meet.”

Katara ran to the bison’s head as the airbender floated down, while Sokka climbed back into the saddle to get their other friend, a small, dark-haired girl who immediately grabbed his arm and stayed latched on to him as he helped her dismount.

Hakoda turned toward the airbender first. He looked slightly nervous, like he wasn’t sure what to expect, but Katara had no such reservations. “Dad, this is--”

“Avatar Aang,” Hakoda finished, looking into the boy’s deep gray eyes. “It’s an honor to have you aboard. I’m Hakoda, Chief of the Southern Water Tribe, and Sokka and Katara’s father.”

The Avatar performed a simple, courteous bow. “Please just call me Aang, Chief Hakoda,” he responded. “Thank you very much for your hospitality.”

“If you’re Aang, then I’m Hakoda. Any friend of my children is always welcome in my home.”

The boy relaxed at this before turning to the final member of their group. Bato had never mentioned a fourth person, so Hakoda knew nothing about her. The first thing he noticed, aside from the way she was dangling off his son’s arm, was her eyes; they were a cloudy white, and he knew immediately that she was blind.

“I’m Toph,” she introduced herself as her bare feet touched the wooden deck. “I’m the greatest earthbender in the world.” Hakoda believed it. At that moment, she didn’t look like a warrior at all, sightless and gripping Sokka’s arm like her life depended on it, but Hakoda had long since learned not to judge others by their appearances.

Beside her, Sokka beamed, and began explaining how Toph was an earthbending master who used seismic sense to “see” with her feet, and how she was teaching the Avatar to do the same. He rambled for a bit before Panuk and Toklo inched closer to the group, having come above deck when they’d heard the commotion caused by the bison’s landing. 

Upon seeing his friend, Sokka launched himself at Toklo, hugging him almost as fiercely as he’d hugged his father; there were only four years between them, so Toklo had taught Sokka much about being a young warrior prior to his departure from the South Pole.

Toklo ruffled Sokka’s hair, ignoring his indignant cries about ruining his wolftail, before turning to Toph with a gleeful look on his face. “So you're completely blind, right? Man, you’re going to get along so well with our friend, he’s-- _Ouch!”_ He hastily abandoned Sokka’s hair to rub at his side, turning around to glare at Panuk. “Seriously, what was that for?”

“One, that was rude,” he deadpanned, completely ignoring the way the girl was laughing maniacally, “and two, think before you speak, idiot.”

Toklo appeared confused for all of two seconds before the realization of what he’d almost said had dawned on him. “Oh. Oops.”

Hakoda just sighed as Toklo smiled at him apologetically.

“Well,” coughed Bato, who was doing an absolutely terrible job at hiding his smile. “I guess we’d better get this over with, my friend.”

The kids looked back at him quizzically, and Toklo and Panuk exchanged a look before turning and running back below deck. Hakoda just sighed again, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

“Well,” he said, his tone almost fond. “Why don’t you kids wait up here. I have someone I’d like you to meet, as well.”

* * *

To say that Zuko was panicking was an understatement.

He’d known something was up when he’d heard the commotion upstairs, dozens of pairs of feet pounding and shuffling above deck all at once. There was some shouting, but it didn’t sound like a fight, so Zuko saw no reason to allow himself to be distracted from Kustaa, who was currently showing him a remedial mixture he’d improved upon from an old Earth Kingdom textbook.

Kustaa was just beginning to explain the addition of a very ordinary-looking leaf (seriously, why were there _so many different kinds of leaves)_ when Panuk and Toklo came crashing into the room.

Zuko pointedly ignored them, having long since mastered the art of pretending the two men were not actually in the same room as him. This promptly failed when Panuk moved towards him… Quietly, almost as if he were afraid of spooking him. Toklo stayed by the door, fidgeting with the frame as if it were the most captivating thing in the world. Even Kustaa had tensed up, though he did nothing to intervene.

“Zuko,” Panuk said softly, putting a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder and looking at him with mild concern. Zuko felt his heart rate speed up as he tried to figure out what he’d done wrong, imagining every terrible scenario that could possibly be playing out on deck.

“Hakoda’s kids are here,” he explained quietly, and somehow Zuko’s heart managed to drop even further into his stomach. “The Avatar is with them. Hakoda wants you to--”

He didn’t hear the rest of what Panuk said; he was too busy bolting out the door, barreling his way through the _Akhlut_ as fast as his legs could carry him. If he could just make it to the cargo hold, he could find a place to hide, somewhere to tuck himself away until--

He quite literally ran straight into Hakoda, because of course he did.

“Oh, Zuko,” the man said calmly, as if absolutely nothing was wrong. “Come with me, there are-- where do you think you’re going?”

He managed not to flinch, but it was a very close thing, and the words stopped him in his tracks regardless. He couldn’t quite look Hakoda in the eye, but he managed to breathe out something of an explanation: “Panuk said-- the Avatar, y-your kids, I can’t--”

And Hakoda must have understood, because he immediately tried to make it better. “Hey, it’s okay,” he tried, rubbing the boy’s shoulder as he trembled. “It’s fine. Do you not want to see them?”

“Do I-- What?” Zuko finally looked up, staring at the Chief as if he’d grown a third head. “Don’t they hate me?” _Don’t they want to hurt me?_ was left unsaid, but Hakoda had gotten very good at speaking ex-fire-prince in the last few months, so it was understood all the same.

“Well, they don’t exactly know it’s you they’re waiting for,” he admitted with a small smile. “But Zuko, you and I both know that you’re not going to hurt them, so they have no reason to hate you. Besides, you’re one of us now. No one on this ship is going to let anything happen to you.”

 _It’s okay,_ Zuko heard, because apparently he’d picked up Water-Tribe-Chief sometime during his stay on the _Akhlut. You’re safe. I’ll protect you._

“Okay,” he said, slowing his breathing and squaring his shoulders. “Okay,” he repeated, and when Hakoda moved to climb up to the deck, Zuko was only a few steps behind him.

* * *

As they neared the entrance to the deck, Hakoda held out his hand, signaling for Zuko to stop. “Wait here,” he said. “I’m going to go explain things to them. I’ll call you out when they’re ready.”

In any other circumstance, Zuko probably would have scowled at him. Instead, he just nodded, trying to swallow the fear that was continuing to build up inside of him. The _Chief’s kids_ were on deck, the ones he’d terrorized for weeks on end, not to mention the spirits-damned _Avatar._ He tried not to think about the implications of that; what if the Chief heard what he’d done to his kids and decided to turn his back on him? Sure, Zuko had already told him most of the story, but that was from his own point of view, and surely Hakoda would trust his own children more than--

“A few months ago, we found someone floating in the ocean off the west coast of the Earth Kingdom,” he heard Hakoda explaining to the group. “He’s just a kid, barely older than you, Sokka. He was extremely hypothermic, and we almost lost him, but he managed to pull through. He’s part of our crew now.”

“I feel a _but_ coming along,” the Chief’s son said almost jokingly, trying to cut through the tension that was building in the air.

Hakoda paused for a moment; Zuko imagined he was making that strained smile that featured whenever he wasn’t sure how to proceed. It didn’t appear often, but he would never forget the Chief’s expression that day in his room, when he’d handed Zuko the letters from his father and watched the boy break down in his arms.

 _”But,”_ he continued, tone fond and exasperated at the same time, “he is… He was originally from the Fire Nation--” Hakoda’s statement was met with several sharp intakes of breath-- “and he hasn’t had the easiest life. I wanted to let you all know that he’s a good person, and that you need not worry about fighting with him again.”

“Again?” the Chief’s daughter echoed, confusion lacing her voice.

“...You’ve met him before.” He didn’t elaborate; instead, he turned back towards where Zuko was hiding, and called out to him. “You can come out now, kid.”

Zuko didn’t allow himself to stall; if he had another moment alone with his thoughts, he wasn’t sure he would be able to make himself known before taking off again. He pushed away everything swimming through his head and forced himself to turn the corner, coming face-to-face with the Chief’s children, the Avatar, and another girl he wasn’t familiar with.

Their reactions were immediate; the boy, Sokka, grabbed his boomerang while moving his body to shield the dark-haired girl beside him. Katara also took a defensive stance, her hands settling on the waterskin hanging at her side. But while they hesitated, the Avatar shifted, and before anyone could react, he’d already darted forward, moving faster than the wind straight towards his sworn enemy.

* * *

_”Zuko!”_

Hakoda wasn’t sure exactly what he’d expected the kids’ reactions to be, but it certainly hadn’t been this. Sure, he wasn’t surprised that his own children were more than a little suspicious of the newcomer; Bato had told him about what they’d said, how they’d described the savage Fire Prince who always seemed to be just a step behind them, waiting for them to slip up so he could capture the Avatar.

Said Avatar, though, was currently wrapped around his would-be captor like an octopus-leech, looking up at him as though he’d just made the greatest discovery in the world. “You’re alive!”

To his credit, Zuko looked even more confused than Hakoda felt. “Um. Yes?”

Thankfully, Aang chose that moment to let the ex-prince go, landing easily back on the deck and allowing Zuko to relax a bit. Hakoda was very impressed that he hadn’t spontaneously combusted; the boy was redder than a fire lily, blushing madly as everyone on deck stared at him.

“Well, I wasn’t sure!” Aang frowned. “Everyone in the Fire Nation was sure you were dead, but when we talked to your uncle he wouldn’t confirm or deny it, and--”

“Wait, you-- you talked to Uncle?” Zuko interrupted. “Is, uh, is he okay?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah! He was really upset about… He said you fell overboard, during a storm. And your armor was heavy, and you were lost at sea. But he wouldn’t tell us if you were dead or not.”

“Uh, sorry to interrupt,” Sokka said unapologetically, “but could someone please explain what’s going on here? Why is Zuko here, and why are he and Aang suddenly all buddy-buddy?”

“I’d like to know, too,” Katara said. She’d relaxed a bit, but hadn’t taken her hand off her waterskin; she was staring at Zuko like he was a three-headed polar-dog.

Somehow, Zuko managed to become even redder. “Um--”

“Oh! It’s fine, Zuko’s a good guy,” Aang patted the firebender on the shoulder casually, as if he hadn’t just contradicted everything that had ever happened between them.

“Who’s Zuko?” the girl behind Sokka asked. “Wait, is that Ponytail Guy?”

“Well, the ponytail’s gone now,” Sokka admitted. “But yeah, he’s the jerk that was chasing us halfway around the world. At least, before he disappeared.”

“He’s dangerous, Toph,” Katara scowled. “He’s the prince of the Fire Nation, and he’s been wanting Aang’s head since he came out of the iceberg.”

Zuko opened his mouth to correct her, but Aang started talking first. “It’s okay! Zuko saved my life. And your lives, kind of. I wouldn’t have been able to get you those frogs without him.”

The younger girl (Toph?) raised an eyebrow. “Frogs?”

“Yeah! Sokka and Katara were really sick, and the healer told me to get them some frozen frogs to suck on, but I got captured by the Fire Nation. Zuko broke me out!”

Hakoda blinked. “...When was this, exactly?”

“Umm…” The Avatar furrowed his brows. “Maybe four months ago? A lot has happened since then…”

Hakoda turned to Zuko, a quizzical look on his face. “Is that when you got your concussion?”

The boy swallowed guiltily. “He told you about that?”

“Oh, yeah!” Aang looked back at them. “You got hit in the head by an arrow! I’m glad you’re better-- Oh, hang on! I have something for you.” He didn’t bother to explain, instead moving swiftly towards his bison and jumping into the saddle before rummaging through his supplies.

He returned only a moment later, and in his hands, he held a blue mask.

“You dropped this,” he said, handing the mask over to Zuko, who took it and held it like it was something precious.

“Oh,” he said quietly, looking down at the stony face wistfully, as if it were an old friend he wasn’t sure how to greet. “...Thanks.”

Aang beamed. “No problem!” he said before turning to his friends, no doubt to continue to argue for Zuko’s sake.

Zuko was still staring down at the mask of the Blue Spirit, while Aang, Katara, Sokka, and Toph continued to argue about the older boy’s intentions. None of them noticed Hakoda next to them, his face becoming pale as he realized what had just happened.

* * *

Dot One: Hakoda had a soulmark on his shoulder. It was a blue mask.

Dot Two: The mask was identical to that of the Blue Spirit, a dual dao-wielding vigilante who was wanted by the Fire Nation.

Dot Three: The Blue Spirit had helped the Avatar escape from the Pohuai Stronghold four months ago.

Dot Four: Zuko was strangely confident in his ability to wield two swords, despite the fact that his skill with just one had been mediocre at best until recently.

Dot Five: Aang said that Zuko had saved him from the Fire Nation, and was now returning the Blue Spirit’s mask to the other boy, who had apparently lost it in the scuffle.

...Oh. Hakoda was an idiot, wasn’t he.

* * *

He turned towards Zuko, something akin to wonder on his face. “Did you know?”

The boy squirmed, clearly uncomfortable but unable to escape the situation. “I… Suspected? I wasn’t really sure, but. Yeah.”

“Know what?” Sokka narrowed his eyes at Zuko, who was staring resolutely at the floor. The others had stopped their argument, now watching the ex-prince with a combination of disdain and fascination.

“I think, um. The Chief might…”

Hakoda shrugged off his coat and pulled his sleeve to the side, revealing the mark plastered on his shoulder. “This is you?”

His kids gasped, while Zuko just stared at it before nodding grimly, eyes moving back down to stare at the floor again.

Around them, the crew started hustling about, pretending they weren’t all eavesdropping on what was rapidly becoming what should have been a private conversation. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Hakoda ignored the sparks that shot out of Zuko’s nose with practiced ease. “Would it have made a difference?” he snapped. “I wasn’t even sure about it myself. And I had no proof, nothing that would have convinced you to believe me. So.” He shrugged, trying to be nonchalant, but Hakoda could see the way he was breathing rapidly beneath his borrowed blue coat.

“What about your soulmark?”

And wasn’t that just the wrong question to ask, because now Zuko looked like he was near tears. “I don’t… I don’t have one anymore. I mean, I do, just not… Not yours.”

“What do you mean?” Katara snorted, disbelieving. “Parental soulmarks don’t just _disappear,_ Zuko. So where is yours, if you’re supposed to be connected to _my_ father?”

He mumbled something incoherent, which only served to infuriate Katara further. “Well?”

She was moving to take a threatening step towards him when Zuko lost his control. “It was on my _face,_ okay?” he snarled. “It was on my face and Father hated me for it so he got rid of it for good when he banished me. Is that what you wanted?”

He didn’t wait around to hear her response, instead turning on his heel and disappearing below deck, dropping the mask as he made his escape. Out of the corner of his eye, Hakoda saw two forms break from the crowd that had gathered in the distance. Panuk and Toklo didn’t hesitate to follow their friend, and Hakoda knew Zuko would be okay, at least for now.

Which was good, because Hakoda didn’t know if he’d be much use to the boy right now, anyway. He himself was frozen in shock, because how could he have missed something so obvious and important like that?

Zuko was his soul-son. Zuko, who no longer had Hakoda’s soulmark, because it had been replaced by a giant burn scar. Zuko, whose own father must have held him down as he’d seared his young son’s face off, sneering as he’d screamed and begged and pleaded for the pain to stop.

Hakoda needed a drink. He needed to storm Caldera City and punch Fire Lord Ozai in his stupid, worthless face. Instead, he gave Sokka and Katara each a squeeze on the shoulder before moving to follow Zuko below deck.

Assassination plans could wait; right now, Hakoda’s son needed him.

* * *

“You know,” Toklo started as he settled next to Zuko in the cargo hold. “The Fire Lord’s an asshole. He’s hurt so many people. My tribe, my family, my brothers...” He took a deep breath. “The Chief’s daughter shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. You shouldn’t have had to say anything until you were ready. That wasn’t fair to you.”

Zuko lifted his head from where it had been resting between his knees as he scooted over to make room for Panuk on his other side. His brow furrowed in confusion. “...Brothers?” They’d had a conversation about siblings, once, but the older boy had only ever mentioned one brother. “I didn’t know you had more than one.”

“I didn’t use to,” Toklo admitted with a wry smile. “I only met him recently, but he’s a great kid, and I’m really glad I’ve gotten to know him.”

Zuko blushed before hiding his head between his knees again. “‘M not a kid.”

“Sure you’re not,” Panuk laughed, wrapping an arm around the younger boy’s shoulder.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a bit, his two friends leaning on either of his shoulders before Zuko drew a shaky breath and asked a question: “Is… Is the Chief mad?”

Panuk hummed in response. “If anything, I’d guess that he’s mad at himself. He’s supposed to be observant, y’know? And somehow he didn’t figure it out. He’s gonna beat himself up about that, I think.”

“Oh,” Zuko whispered. He wasn’t sure if he could manage to curl in on himself anymore, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try. “I didn’t…”

“None of that is on you, though,” Toklo interrupted. He didn’t back down when Zuko stared up at him, skeptical. “Seriously, it’s not. You don’t need to tell any of us anything if you’re not comfortable with it.”

Zuko was about to mumble something clever when he heard the floorboards just outside the cargo hold’s entrance begin to creak. He tensed up again, expecting… Something. Yelling, or a punishment, maybe. A beating, if Hakoda hated him now that he knew he was a liar. Anything but the calm voice that followed a slight rapping on the other side of the wall.

“Zuko?” Hakoda asked, his voice quiet and low as if he were approaching a wounded animal. “You’re not in trouble, kid. I... I’ll be in my cabin, if you want to talk about it. If not, that’s fine too. But the others will leave you alone, you have my word.” _You’re okay. You’re safe, you can speak your mind and no one will punish you for it. I promise._

“Okay,” he croaked out, and Zuko couldn’t control the slight sniffle that followed. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding; it was watery and hitched, a tell-tale sign that he was holding back tears.

Zuko waited until he’d heard the floorboards creak again as Hakoda walked away before he finally looked up. Toklo and Panuk stayed by his side, silent and unmoving, shifting only to accommodate Zuko when he finally moved to get up.

They didn’t say anything as he walked out of the cargo hold, and he resisted the urge to look back at them before he left; if he did, he wasn’t sure if he’d have the courage to turn around again.

* * *

Hakoda tried not to let his surprise show in his voice when he answered the knock at his door just a few minutes later. “Come in,” he called out, and he heard Zuko take a deep breath before opening the door and entering the Chief’s cabin.

The boy looked worse than Hakoda had seen him in a long time; his eyes were puffy and agitated, and though he’d tried to hide them there were fresh tear tracks running down his cheeks. He was at least actually looking at Hakoda now, though; it was never a good thing when Zuko started avoiding eye contact.

“I want you to know,” he started slowly, “that I am not mad or upset with you at all. Not even a little bit. I just want to confirm what I heard earlier, so that there are no misunderstandings between us. Anything beyond that, or anything you’re not comfortable telling me, you keep to yourself, okay?”

Zuko hesitated slightly before nodding. “Okay,” he whispered, looking anything but. Hakoda gestured for him to sit down on the mattress. He briefly glanced beside his desk and thanked his past self for having left a stray bucket in his room; worst-case scenario, at least the kid wouldn’t have to puke on Hakoda’s bed.

Zuko took another deep breath before he began to speak. “I’m sorry I lied to you, sir,” he said. His voice was shaky and terrified, the same way it had been when Hakoda had shown him his father’s letters. “I-- I didn’t mean to, I swear, but I’m sorry--”

Hakoda interrupted him by placing the mask of the Blue Spirit in his hands; Zuko had dropped it when he’d fled from the deck, but Hakoda had seen his reaction when the Avatar had first returned it to him. He saw it again, now, a look of childish wonder and longing crossing over the boy’s face as he held it in his hands.

“What does the mask mean to you?” Hakoda asked gently. A soulmark was supposed to be a reflection of one’s true self, and it was obviously important to Zuko, but Hakoda couldn’t figure out why.

“It… It was my mother’s. She used to love the theater, before…”

Hakoda’s brows furrowed. “Is she..?”

“...I don’t know. I used to have her mark, too, but…” He pulled back the left sleeve of his coat to reveal a small burn scar on his wrist. Hakoda had seen it before, of course, but it had always seemed inconsequential when compared to everything else the boy had been through.

“Your father did that to you?”

“No, not that one. That was Azula, my, um. My sister. I think Father told her to do it, though, so I wouldn’t know if Mother was alive or not.” A pause. “He was the one who burned my face, though,” he said. His voice was barely above a whisper, like if he spoke any louder he’d wake up all the memories in his head. “It got… I used to cover it up with this paint, and I had it on when we fought, so it got infected really badly. Uncle said I almost died.”

Hakoda had thought he’d known the extent of Zuko’s suffering. He’d been wrong.

“Was this when he banished you?”

“Yes,” he frowned, contemplating, before he continued. “I, uh, I disrespected him, in a war room. I wasn’t supposed to be there, so I was ordered to fight an Agni Kai to defend my honor.”

Hakoda had heard of the Agni Kai, a traditional firebending duel that only ended when the victor burned their opponent. They were public spectacles, usually, and to lose an Agni Kai was to lose one’s honor. He tried to imagine Zuko, a thirteen-year-old boy, forced to face the Fire Lord in front of a crowd of cheering nobles.

“You didn’t fight,” Hakoda murmured. It wasn’t a question.

“How could I have?” Zuko’s shoulders were shaking, and his eyes were screwed shut as though he were in pain. “I kneeled and begged for mercy. I told him I was his loyal son, and he reached down to grab my face. Right over the mark, on purpose.” He opened his eyes again, and he was crying. “And then he set his hand on fire.”

And damn it all, Hakoda had been trying to give the boy his space, but before he could stop himself his arms were wrapped around Zuko’s trembling form. He leaned into the embrace, pressing his face into Hakoda’s chest in an attempt to stifle his own sobs.

They stayed that way for several minutes, Zuko wrapped up in Hakoda’s arms, trying to calm down as the Chief held him close. Eventually, the sobs became sniffles, and the sniffles dissipated as Zuko squirmed a bit, and Hakoda somewhat reluctantly drew back from their hug.

The boy wiped at his eyes, inhaling and exhaling slowly as he tried to hide his emotion. The last thing Hakoda wanted was to cause Zuko any more pain, but there was one more question that Hakoda desperately wanted an answer to:

“If you don’t mind telling me, what was your soulmark?”

Zuko tensed up, every so slightly. “It was… War paint, I guess. Grey, white, and black. The same design your son was wearing when I, um.” His eyes fell to the floorboards, and he ducked his head in shame as he spoke. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Hakoda said eloquently. “Okay,” he repeated, before clearing his throat and finally beginning to say what he’d meant to say before Zuko had started crying in his arms.

“It’s been… A very long time since anyone in the South Pole has been marked for a child from the outside,” he began cautiously. “But… In the past, those children have always been welcomed into our tribes and our homes. For my ancestors, their soul-children were just as much part of their families as their blood-children.

“I know that you and my other children have not gotten off to the best start,” Hakoda continued, the ghost of a smile replacing his serious expression, “but you’re already a member of my tribe, Zuko. I would be honored if you would consider joining my family, as well.”

The expression on Zuko’s face was heartbreaking; he looked resigned and terrified at the same time, as if he wanted to be hopeful but was expecting everything to crumble the second he dared to imagine himself being happy.

“I don’t… Did you ask..? I don’t think Sokka and Katara would. Um. Appreciate having to share…”

“They don’t know you the way I do, Zuko. My children are fiercely protective of their family, and they may have a hard time realizing that you’ve truly changed, but that doesn’t mean they are incapable of understanding you.” 

Zuko sat very still on the Chief’s bed, his knees tucked up against his chest as he curled in on himself. He was so _small,_ and even after everything they’d been through, Hakoda sometimes found himself forgetting that this boy was only sixteen. A child, barely halfway through his teenage years, who had suffered more in his short life than most men did before their graves.

“It may take time, but if you’ll let them, I don’t doubt that they will grow to love you for who you are.”

“But… But what if they hate me? I chased them for months, I attacked your village, and I don’t-- What if they never forgive me?”

Hakoda just smiled at him, soft and understanding. “Some time may have passed since I last saw them, but I know my children, Zuko. They will forgive you, I promise. But for now…” He opened a small drawer by his desk, pulling out Katara’s necklace and placing it gently beside his soul-son. “Let’s offer up a truce, okay?”

“...Okay.” Zuko slowly removed himself from his position on the bed, grabbing the necklace and gripping it tightly as he uncurled his arms and stretched his legs. He looked the Chief in the eyes again, and a thousand silent words crossed between them. Hakoda just nodded, resolute, and when he moved to exit the cabin, Zuko was right behind him.

* * *

Zuko’s hands weren’t shaking, his thoughts weren’t racing, and he absolutely was not hiding behind Hakoda when they emerged above deck after their talk.

He had a death grip on Katara’s necklace, despite the fact that it felt like it was burning a hole through his hand. It felt very heavy, somehow. Were necklaces supposed to be that heavy?

And then he saw the Chief’s kids, and suddenly his feet were heavy, too. Every step he took towards them ached, and it was becoming more and more difficult to force himself towards them. What could he do? What could he say? How could he talk to them, convince them to listen without scorning him?

He blinked, and suddenly they were right in front of him. Hakoda’s encouraging hand rested on his shoulder, grounding him and making him face the scowling siblings before him.

“I… Um. I’m very sorry for chasing you, and, um, attacking your village, and… I understand that you might not forgive me, but. I wanted to give you this.” He opened his palm to reveal the pendant, and Katara’s eyes went wide. “I found it on the prison ship, after you escaped. I was going to use it to track you down, but. Um. I never… Got that far?” 

He definitely should have left that last part out, but luckily the Water Tribe girl didn’t seem to have noticed. 

“Mom’s necklace!” Katara cried, moving to fasten it around her neck. “I thought it was gone forever! I can’t believe it’s here.” She turned to Zuko, clearly not sure how to feel about the whole situation, but grateful nonetheless. “...Thank you,” she finished. “And… I’m sorry I pushed you, earlier. That wasn’t fair of me.” Her fingers didn’t leave the blue ornament around her neck, but she flashed Zuko a soft, appreciative smile.

The Avatar, who had been uncannily quiet up until that point, suddenly decided to remind everyone that he was there. “See, Katara!” he exclaimed, pointing his finger like an excited toddler. “I told you Zuko was a good guy now!”

“Uh, Aang, did you miss the part where he said he was going to _track us down_ with it?” Sokka asked. “I’m still not buying it.”

“Yeah, but he didn’t! And he gave it back, right? So no more tracking!”

“That doesn’t mean anything! We came to him this time, he doesn’t even need to track us anymore--”

“Sokka, come on, if Dad trusts him, then--”

“Listen, Katara, I’m not about to give up my status as the older brother--”

“Guys!” Toph interrupted, moving forward to physically push the siblings away from each other. “I’m a great judge of character, and I say he looks totally trustworthy,” she beamed.

 _“Thank you,_ Toph. See, Sokka, you’ve been out--” She stopped talking abruptly, looking down at the wooden deck of the _Akhlut_ before whirling around to face the smaller girl, who was now flashing Katara a shit-eating grin. _“Toph, you little--!”_

Toph just cackled, and it wasn’t long until the rest of her friends started laughing, too. Even Hakoda was sporting an amused smile, his hand still resting protectively on Zuko’s shoulder. They were such a tight-knit, happy group-- a family, even-- and it made Zuko’s heart soar and sink at the same time.

He wasn’t expecting Katara to turn towards him, her kind smile from earlier returning easily. “Well, Zuko,” she said, ignoring her brother’s half-hearted glares, “if you’re going to be part of the tribe now, we might as well get to know you. But first, I’m starving, so _please_ tell me there are snacks in the mess hall so I don’t have to make something.”

Zuko just blinked at her. “Um, yeah, there are snacks, but. If you want, I could, uh, cook something for you?”

Her entire face lit up. “You can cook?”

“Sort of? I’m still learning, but I have this little stove I use--”

Katara turned back around to face her brother, a triumphant look on her face. “See, Sokka, I told you that boys should be able to cook--”

Sokka just let out a flabbergasted string of noises, and they immediately started arguing again, the Avatar trying to calm them down while Toph egged them both on. In the disarray, Zuko slipped out from under Hakoda’s grip, shooting the Chief a small, thankful smile as he moved below deck to go fire up his stove. He had a meal to prepare.

And if he put a little extra spice in the dish he would give to Sokka, well. No one had to know.

* * *

Later that evening, Bato was in an impossibly good mood, considering the infinite chaos that had found itself on the _Akhlut_ since the Avatar’s arrival. Hakoda, the wise, perceptive Chief, quickly confronted him, because as much as he trusted Bato on the battlefield, he absolutely knew better than to trust him to stay out of trouble.

“So,” he started, catching Bato on a stray corner of the ship and glaring as his second’s grin only got wider. “Do you want to tell me what’s got you whistling, of all things, or am I going to have to figure it out myself?”

Bato hummed. “Well, Chief,” he said, his respect completely honorable and not at all sarcastic, “let’s just say that I won the betting pool.”

Hakoda’s continued stare prompted him to continue. “Your men have too much faith in you,” he laughed. “I bet that you wouldn’t realize it was Zuko until he told you. You’ve made me a rich man, my friend. You have my eternal thanks.”

He gave Hakoda a very civil, not-at-all-demeaning bow before turning on his heel and sprinting across the deck.

Hakoda just sighed. Infinite chaos, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> i took a few creative liberties to write this fic; i don't really know how long zuko has been on the akhlut at this point, and i don't know if the akhlut's big enough for appa to safely land on deck. oops.
> 
> i also made it so zuko dropped his mask whenever he talked to aang after pohuai stronghold, bc mans had a concussion and probably wasn’t thinking straight.
> 
> also, soulmarks turn gray when the person they represent dies, so iroh knows that zuko's alive. when he wrote to ozai he said that zuko was "lost at sea," and ozai just interpreted that to mean that he was dead. sike, bitch.
> 
> tysm for reading! <3


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